


Birthday Boys

by JasnNCarly



Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Amy - Freeform, F/M, Tumblr, birthday gift for reader, greygirlmoxley, wwe imagine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2020-05-19 09:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19353868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JasnNCarly/pseuds/JasnNCarly
Summary: Amy is torn; Dean and Roman have feelings for her. How could she possibly choose?





	Birthday Boys

“Come on,” Dean extends his hand, beaming smile despite the stale hot air surrounding you, “it’s not much further, Amy.”

You pout, taking his hand and force yourself to finish the hike, “I thought I was supposed to be pampered on my birthday, not sweating my hair do out and make up off.”

“Who puts make up on for a hike anyway?” Dean clutches your hand, despite the walk now being easier, “You don’t need that.”

“Meaning?”

“You’re hot no matter what you wear or how you try to decorate your package.”

“Been checking out my package, huh?”

He smirked at you over his shoulder, shameless, “Any chance I get.”

You blush slightly at his comment, your breath slightly hitching as he laces your fingers with his. The urge to question him further changes as he brings you into a shaded area; a blanket is laid out among lush green grass and a picnic basket awaits you.

“Happy Birthday, Amy.”

His whisper in your ear makes you hug his waist, resting your head on his shoulder, “It’s perfect.”

“I’m not great with this stuff, but I figured no one else would do this for you.”

You sit down on the fluffy cloth and stare up at him with expectant eyes, hoping your expression tells him just how thankful you are.

“I know we’ve been making this tough on you, but…I was hoping to give you a minute to think about nothing at all.”

“Except you, right?” You shake your head with a soft laugh as he shrugs and begins to unpack the basket; it is hard on you in the most unfair and blessed way. Roman and Dean had been hinting for months that they needed you to make a choice; both of them wanted a commitment from you, and it had become almost a competition between them. Two brothers fighting for the affection of what they perceived to be the perfect woman.

You struggle with feeling worth either one of them; the two are so beautiful and different. Roman is cool and naturally smooth while Dean’s rough and spontaneous. Together? They may have been your perfect mate. Though you had been caught up, individually, in a make out session with both Dean and Roman; however, you had never crossed that intimate line with either one. Once that line was crossed, there would be no turning back and your choice would be cemented. At a moment like this, when Dean was so excited to reveal his surprise to you, you found it nearly impossible to keep your hands off him. His hair lightened in sunlight and his smile that of an excited kid, moments where he was ecstatic to be with you.

———————————

You manage to escape your afternoon with Dean, restraining yourself to another intense make out. When he asks if you will call tonight, you admit that you have no clue what anyone has planned for you. With one last kiss, lingered along his lips, you climb out of his car and head up to your front door. Waving goodbye, you unlock lock your heavy door and push your way inward.

You would be a liar if you said Roman’s lack of contact with you had not completely broken your heart; maybe he knew you were with Dean…maybe he just could not take the tug of war anymore. Either way, you were glad that Dean had gone above and beyond the call of duty. There were no messages or packages awaiting you, just an eerily quiet home and a night quickly winding down.

You hop into the shower, washing away the hike’s work and enjoying the sun’s kiss that has been left upon your skin; allowing the hot water to massage your tense muscles, you take a deep breath of the steam and enjoy the temperature until it’s gone lukewarm. Running a comb quickly through your hair, you make your way into your bedroom and dig in your dresser drawers.

The loud doorbell causes you to frown towards your clock.  _7:30_. Hmm, maybe you wouldn’t have to call Dean here to finish what you started this afternoon. Maybe a friend could get you out of the house and your mind off of your love triangle. Unsure, you pull on a satin crème camisole and matching shorts; to be safe, you grab your black robe and tie it tight.

When the door rings again, you shout out, “I’m coming, calm down!” You peer through the peephole to see only a baseball cap and narrow your brows,  _What the hell_. Locking the chain, you are careful to bring the door slightly ajar. Instantly, your suspicion grows but so does your smile as he grey eyes find yours and his hands move from behind his back. He presents a ridiculous bouquet of balloons in every possible  _Happy Birthday_  design; his opposite hand offers a dozen assorted colored roses. You shake your head, shutting the door enough to undo the chain, and pull the door all the way open; accepting both, you stare up at him – relieved and revived at his arrival.

“Happy Birthday, Amy.” Once you’ve accepted his gestures, he reaches down to retrieve a large brown bag and kisses your cheek, “Ready to celebrate?”

“Well, it depends. I still have to get dressed.” You shut and lock the door, following him into the kitchen, “Or…?”

“Dining in.” He sets the bag down and begins to unpack your favorite dinner, down to the smallest detail; Roman tosses his head with a smile, “Go sit.”

You do as told, sitting at the table and awaiting his move; what he does, you aren’t expecting.

Removing his ball cap, he allows his unruly mane to fall down and over his shoulders; unzipping his jacket, he reveals he’s shirtless. Your mouth immediately goes dry as you take in every detail of his tattoo and otherwise untouched skin; he fixes you a plate, his lower body hugged by dark denim. You try to play cool, unembarrassed, as he brings you a plate and notices your flushed cheeks.

“See something you like?”

 _Oh fuck._  You see a lot you like, served on a silver platter; yet you pinch your lips together, stifling a breath. When he turns around to return to the kitchen, your eyes immediately catch a look at his sculpted behind.

“So, I figured you’d want some birthday cake later so…” He presents a small cake for two, setting it on the counter, and quickly fixes a plate to sit beside you, “your birthday present should be pretty obvious.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Roman scoots back a little, gesturing towards himself and bowing slightly at his waist, “I am at your service tonight. Your request is my command.”

You give a slow nod, trying to keep a clear head as he smiles back towards his meal. Could your day have been more perfect? A beautiful man in the day and the evening…yet it was hard to remember anything as Roman cleared your plates, kissing your forehead.

When he moved into the kitchen, cleaning dishes without your saying a word, you watch him. His frame, somewhat illuminated by the moonlight, made you realize you couldn’t put the decision off any longer.

Brave, you remove the napkin from your lap and tiptoe into the kitchen; coming up behind Roman, you slide your arms around his waist and place feather kisses along his shoulder blades. When he shuts off the water, his body slightly leaning forward and flexing his muscles against your lips, you feel your heart pound at the sound of his release of a long breath – a sign he almost could not take your affectionate touch.

You back off, and he turns in your arms and brings his arms around you.  As his hands press against the small of your back, you feel like a captive of his stare – too struck to move. Roman dips down, lifting you slightly, and allows his kiss to make promises you’re not sure your body can handle. You are putty in his hands, ready to be molded and manipulated, especially as he sweeps you up in his arms and carries you back to your bedroom.

You feel your body react before your mind can register the process; his hands undoing the tie at your waist and removing the material to toss the robe aside. On your feet, somewhat nervous and unbalanced, you feel his thumbs smooth strong lines against your stomach.

Roman’s breath is hot, tone husked, as he clearly restrains himself, “Tell me what you want, birthday girl.”

Closing your eyes, locking your hands at the back of his neck, you give your first request of the night, “I want you to show me why you’re the only choice I could ever make.”

When that grin begins to appear, you feel the wetness between your thighs; he has not even touched you  _that way_ and you’re not sure you can take a night with this man.

Your body becomes a wave of sensations after he’s carefully placed you onto the bed; the pillow touch of his lips replaces the satin which previously dressed you. As he ghosts every inch of your body with patience, you only manage to release breaths in reaction – each a signal where he should start, pause, stop, and go as far as he can. When his fingers caress and probe, you make your second command, “Roman, I want you inside me.”

A foil package later, he gives into your latest requests, easing into you with agonizing patience as your body readily accepts. He bites his lip, clearly trying to show hold back as he fills you, and you feel more welcoming that before; latching your legs around him, forcing him deeper, your hips buck forward to challenge him – a mutual moan mixed between you.

Roman’s solid frame presses into you as his dance becomes to overwhelm you, your moans growing increasingly loud. His hands squeeze your hips as his eyes shut tight, but he forces himself to slow down. You are not as calm as him, forcing your hands into his hair and pulling his lips to yours, and allow your tongue to dare him to do what he will.

When he unleashes full power in his movement, you squeeze the strands of his hair and hug him in every way you can until the sparks ripple to your toes; relieved you hear his groan of consent, you ride out the last of the fireworks until you’re both a heavy breath pile of tangled limbs.

“I know it’s your birthday but…damn, Amy.” He huffs into your ear, rolling off you and onto his back, “Damn…”

You adjust to your side, curling into his side, “Guess you have your answer.”

“Yeah?” Roman wraps an arm around you, the opposite reaching for your hand, “You gonna be my girl?”

You nod, accepting his anxious kiss with a laugh, before you continue to celebrate your birthday with your love genie.


End file.
